Marafi picked a fight with one of the workers today. When I broke it up, he stormed off into the forest. He's always been high strung, but lately he's been intolerable. He better come back soon. It's getting dark and the forest is too quiet. The stories people tell about this place are little more than nursery rhymes, but on nights like this, I can see why. One of the workers swears he saw Lowindor stumbling about the edge of camp last night. Lowindor's dead. How is that possible? A drunken nightmare? That's what Nilaendril says. I'm not so sure. I never thought I'd believe in ghosts.